


The right hand of Death

by Elenyafinwe



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Attempted Murder, Cyrodiil (Elder Scrolls), Family, Gen, Long, Murder, Skyrim - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe
Summary: "I am called Arela Drewani, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and I am here to welcome you into our family. For your heart is black as night and colder than the bitterest winter in Skyrim. You were born to murder." - Lucien Lachance is one of the most capable killers known to the Dark Brotherhood these days. Dedicated and talented as he is, it was easy for him to rise high in the ranks of the Brotherhood. But every story has a beginning, and his can be found with his hands at the throat of a Wood Elf in the sewers of the Imperial City.
Relationships: Lucien Lachance & Vicente Valtieri
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue: An ending

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Die rechte Hand des Todes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14264469) by [Elenyafinwe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe). 



Lucien Lachance knows that his end is inevitable. He has done everything in his power to save his family, but obviously Sithis has other plans for him. While he still kneels alone in the small hut called Applewatch and sacrifices his blood to the Dread Father, he considers whether to be angry or just find peace.

The Black Hand chases him, because it thinks he is the traitor. He knows that the traitor is among them, that he himself is the betrayed one.

So why doesn't Sithis prevent his children from slaughtering each other? Why does he prevent Lucien, his most loyal servant, from saving his family? There can be only one explanation: Sithis has other plans. With Lucien's Silencer Nandarel?

His Silencer is now his last hope. He has sent her to track down the traitor, and she is reliable, one of the most talented family members Lucien has ever met, much more so than Ocheeva, Mirabelle, or Mathieu. She must succeed, the responsibility for the entire Dark Brotherhood rests on her shoulders.

For Lucien is the prey, and the prey has been found.

He knows this before the other Speakers enter the hut. Silent, like shadows that they are. Master assassins of the Dark Brotherhood, instruments of death and infallible. At least most of the time.

"You got the wrong person," Lucien says soberly as he slowly rises and turns around. But he says it more to himself than to the Speakers. It's useless, they won't believe him.

There are Arquen the High Elf, just appointed Speaker after Uvani and G'Hasta's death, Mathieu Bellamont the Breton, Banus Alor the Dark Elf, and Bellisarius Arius the Imperial. Which of them is it? Which one of them betrayed the Dark Brotherhood and used Nandarel to assassinate the most capable assassins of the present day? Who could possibly have motive for this act, who, who?

Lucien scrutinizes each of them closely and yet cannot answer any of his questions. All he knows is he won't raise his weapon. He will die that night in this place, with or without a fight. But if he resisted, he wouldn't be the only one dying here. And he can't be responsible for that. What if he kills an innocent man and not the traitor? He can't face Sithis like this.

He has done his part. He made mistakes, yes, maybe he reacted too late and made Ungolim pay with his life. Ungolim of all people, the Listener himself! Perhaps this is now his punishment for his missteps in the past days and weeks.

Lucien never liked one thing in his life: fatalism. But he knows that he is now ready to stand before his God, his Dread Father. His conscience is clear, Nandarel set upon the traitor. He knows that the traitor, whichever of the people present may be, will die soon, no one escapes Nandarel. His work is done.

He drops his dagger, the iron, rusty, jagged dagger that has accompanied him all his life, with which he shed his first blood in the name of Sithis. It's as if he strikes himself the first blow with the blade.

"No resistance, Lachance?" hisses Bellamont. "Come on, pick up the dagger and fight. Or do you want to die not only a traitor, but a coward as well?"

Mathieu has changed in recent years. Lucien never completely gave up hope of putting his master pupil back on track, but he had failed. The gulf between them had only grown wider.

"Come on!", the Breton tried to tease him further.

"Quiet, Bellamont!" Arquen snappes at him. "Don't act up, but do what we came for."

It is also she who strikes Lucien the first blow with the dagger. As if this were the sign, the other speakers also press on him, piercing their blades into his warm flesh. He goes down, enjoys the pain and knows that he deserves it.

For he has betrayed his family. Finally and ultimately he has betrayed them, all those who mean something to him and who are dear to him. He has their blood on his hands because he was unable to catch the traitor.

All beginnings have their end, and his end is reached here, while he lies on the floor of the Applewatch farm, his blood spreading around him and he takes his last breaths. It is only moments, moments that he dies, but he enjoys each and every one of them, while the blades of his hunters continue to pierce him.

In a moment he would be able to stand before his terrible father, give account for his deeds and clear his conscience. He has done his best, and yet he feels remorse that it could not have been more.

His way ends here. A path of blood and death. A path he has enjoyed every step of. He served his Dread Father with a devotion and love unlike any other. His family was his life, for them he did everything - and for them he dies now. An end befitting an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood like him.

It's hard to believe that it all began with his hands on the throat of a small Wood Elf, back in the sewers of the Imperial City. Such a simple and insignificant thing. But to him, it meant a whole world.

Lucien Lachance smiles, remembers, closes his eyes and sinks into blackness and nothingness.


	2. Homecoming (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tent to write very long chapters, so I have divided this one

Night fell and the first stars appeared. Masser and Secunda, the two moons in the sky of Nirn, gradually climbed the firmament and sent their pale light through the streets of the imperial City. Only a few torches lit the narrow, winding streets of the Imperial Capital, so that numerous shadows provided shelter for the nocturnal figures.

The Imperial Legion rarely patrolled off the main streets. This was a mistake, as crime could easily slip under their eyes. Moreover, if one knew the paths through the sewers, it was easy for the numerous street gangs to escape the eyes of the law. Provided one dared to face the dangers in the sewers...

The Imperial boy Lucien Lachance looked at his gang of ragged street children with a stern eye. He was their leader, a notorious orphan who had grown up in the filth of the Imperial City. He had met his mother, a whore. But after she had unwillingly gone pregnant with him, she had only a few years to live. No one wanted a whore with a screaming brat. Her customers had become fewer and fewer. Finally she had hanged herself.

Now Lucien stood here as the head of his gang, which looked up at him with eyes wide with fear, while he stood on a small pile of boxes in the port district and let his eyes wander over the members of his gang. They were all as torn as he was, skinny and with dirty faces. Many of them had knives on their sides, even if most of them were only used as a deterrent; most of them were only used to ward off rats from the sewers; none of them had ever been involved in a serious fight.

"I don't think it's a good idea to attack Caius' gang," said Malvin, a Wood Elf. "Lucien, we shouldn't, we'll just burn our fingers on it."

"Caius is gone," Lucien thought. "His gang has lost their head and is now weakened. This is the perfect time for us to take them over and increase our power. Imagine what it would be like if we could control more of the Imperial City's underground! We'd have more food, enough for everyone, and most of all, we wouldn't be a bunch of street rats begging for every crumb of bread and still not getting full."

"Don't talk nonsense," yelped Malvin. "The Grey Fox and his Thieves' Guild control the city and no one else. Not even Hieronymus Lex can catch him! We are and always will be: street rats worth a kick to the guard and a punch if they catch us stealing."

Lucien snorted. "And you want to remain a street rat forever and ever?" he countered.

"At least I don't want to throw my probably already short life away pointlessly," Malvin said and crossed his arms defiantly in front of his chest. "If you're going to pull this off, do it without me."

"Whatever you say." The leader of the gang turned to the others. "And what about you? Do you want to be rats forever? "Or do you want to show the world that we're a force to be reckoned with?"

He had become the leader of the gang for one reason: He was ruthless, merciless and unrelenting. He did not hesitate to beat other members of his gang even once if they did not obey him, for he had never been averse to violence. In general this was a trait of his character that distinguished him from the other street boys. While most of them only waved their knives around, hoping that it seemed threatening, he did not hesitate to use it. A few cuts here and there and everyone had already learned that he didn't hesitate to use it. But he had never killed anyone before. Whether he would do it, he wondered, while he played with the knife on the rope that was his belt to hold the pants on his skinny hips.

No one but Malvin dared to object again. The Wood Elf looked around uncertainly while all the others nodded their approval to Lucien. When he saw that he was standing at a lost post, he lowered his shoulders and joined the group will.

"We're going through the sewers," Lucien said. "It's quicker and less conspicuous. I've been down there many times, alone though, but that shouldn't make much difference. There are only rats down there, nothing more."

He didn't mention that he'd only explored small parts of the sewers and that there were rumours that there were worse things down there than sewer rats. But what could happen to them? They were a large group and most of them were at least skilled in fistfighting. Nothing would happen to them.

The rumors, however, seemed to have heard others. When he mentioned the sewers, confidence suddenly disappeared from most faces. Yet they resigned themselves to the idea out of fear or loyalty.

Lachance jumped down from the box and ran off with a confident face. There were several entrances to the sewers outside the city. Normally the grids were locked so that only the dirt of the city could drain into Lake Rumare, but nothing could get in. But he had discovered a rusty grating that was sure to be easy to break through, especially if several of the boys helped.

The prospect of more influence in the city attracted him a lot. He might have been the son of a whore who might have been mounted by a bored guard or a drunken dock worker, he didn't know, and to be honest, he didn't care. But that didn't rule out that he was ambitious. He wanted to get out of this hole, out of all the dirt and stench. He wanted to do more with his life than just bossing around a bunch of street kids. There was no power, nothing that satisfied him. He wanted more, much more. At least it was a start to fight the Thieves' Guild for control of the streets.

They packed up what seemed useful to them for such an undertaking: their knives and Lucien even his little iron dagger, which he only took out as a special trophy on special occasions. A lot of things were found in the city's garbage, but a real weapon was rare. They also carried provisions in their pockets as well as some torches and tinder, which should give them enough to face first the sewers and then Caius' gang.

Determinedly he now led his small group out of the Waterfront. Since it lay outside the actual city walls anyway, they did not have to go to great lengths to avoid the city guards. The few who had been ordered to come here were mostly as drunk as the dock workers or the pirates who occasionally anchored here anyway, and thus not a challenge for nimble street kids who wanted to go unnoticed.

Only a few steps and they had left the harbour area. If they stayed away from the water, they had nothing to fear from mud crabs and wolves were smart enough not to attack such a large group of people.

They didn't have to go far east to get to one of the entrances, the southeast one. Shortly after they went under the bridge that connected the city to the Mages Guild, Lucien turned towards the lake and led his group down the embankment. Far and wide there was no life to be seen. The Rumare Lake lay large, dark and silent, illuminated only by the light of the two moons reflected in its surface. Lucien knew that the glow was trough and that under the surface of the water were hidden slaughterfishes, mischievous (though tasty) predatory fishes that attacked everything that moved. But in the end they didn't want to go into the water, only into the sewers.

They found the entrance under a small overhang. A small trickle of brackish water splashed quietly from the sewer shaft into the lake, otherwise nothing could be heard. Lucien quickly looked around to make sure that they were not being watched, no matter how small the probability was. But nobody was to be seen, just as expected.

One of the boys shook the grille. "Locked," he said. "But not firmly, by the looks of it. I think we can easily break through." With that, he pulled out a lock pick and tried his luck. It wasn't long before he'd broken the lock.

Lucien smiled. This has gone easier than expected. Courageously he went ahead and stepped into the musty stench of the sewers. Darkness enveloped him and he let a torch be handed to him. With some effort it was lit and he held the sooty thing in the shaft in front of him. Flickering light licked the damp stones, but at least it illuminated a little of what lay ahead of him.

Soon the shaft opened up into a small room. Slowly they groped through the dirty water as it dripped from the walls on all sides. Slimy moss covered the paving stones and muffled every sound.

Lucien had kept one more thing from his gang: that he feared the sewers. It was not without danger here, but before he had joined this group of street children, he had had to use this place as a makeshift hiding place more than once. He had never gone far, but sometimes he had heard shuffling footsteps and tormented moans in distant corridors. Bones he had found here, too, and he was very sure that they were not from rats.

But with his gang behind him he felt strong. They were a big group, nothing would attack them. And even in the unlikely event that the worst should happen, he could hide in the protection of their numbers and let others fight for him.

Some of the others were not so confident. They hesitated to follow him, but did so when he confidently pushed his back through, lifted the torch and went ahead. They all had an oppressive feeling and they felt eyes resting on them from all sides, even though maybe there were none at all.

Rats and mud crabs and maybe one or two slaughterfishes in the dirty water were annoying at best. The rumors persisted in their thoughts. Every shadow cast by the flickering torches suddenly seemed to hide deadly dangers. The children and youths of Lucien's gang flinched at every sound, every suspicious movement. Each one had the knives in his hand and all his senses sharpened.

The smell of decay was omnipresent. Sweet and disgusting, it stuck in the air and could not get out of your nose. Rubbish was floating in the canals, where the rats, who seemed to live here like in paradise, were doing good. It wasn't the big sewer rats, but smaller city rats, who didn't scurry away as soon as light fell on them, but at least didn't attack anyone.

Their great cousins were far more penetrating. They encountered several of the beasts, and none of them were as easily repelled as the smaller animals. Each of the rats stared at them from mischievous little eyes and seemed to be thinking about how to kill its prey. Quite a few animals put their plans of attack into action.

Waving the torches, the gang was able to fend off most of the attackers. Some, however, were more persistent. With their sharp, yellowish rodent teeth bared, they jumped squealing and screeching towards the frightened, tightly packed children. Lucien's gang reached out with their knives and waved them around with little coordination. Only their number saved them from worse than deep scratches.

It soon became clear that if the rumors were true, they would be hopelessly outnumbered.

Now that they had been wandering around in the sewers for some time, the urge to take a short break became overpowering for most of them. Lucien chose a passageway that seemed halfway protected from the sewers and let his followers rest. Quickly he had given some orders and posted guards, then he allowed himself to sit down and breathe deeply.

Only now did he notice how tense and exhausted he was. The constant danger that was around him was eating away at his nerves, even if it was only the mere threat of it. His eyes were restless and his hand always on the dagger. Is this how the prey felt before the hunter attacked it?

Then he pulled himself together. He had been down here before, and back then he hadn't had the protection of his own gang. No, the rumours were nothing more than rumours, and if there was anything to them, then surely only the Skooma addicts had holed up down here. Nothing more. He had never encountered worse creatures, and the Skooma addicts were really no more of a danger than rats and mud crabs. He should stop behaving like a little kid and be a leader again.

The gang members spoke only softly and muffledly to each other. While Lucien watched them, he saw that they too were always rushing around, not trusting peace. Then he shook his head and remembered that most of them were exactly the same cowardly dogs as Malvin. It took a person like him to hold them together and above all to get them all to go this way together with him. It took a strong-willed and determined person, determined to do everything to achieve their goals. And that was him, nobody could deny that.

"We shouldn't have gone here," he heard Malvin murmuring softly to himself. "Shouldn't have let us get carried away. It was a stupid idea. Sooner or later something will happen."

Lucien threw a glance out of the corner of his eye, but no one seemed to want to listen to the words of the Wood Elf. Some gave Lucien uncertain looks, but most ignored the words, probably for fear of consequences. Lucien also left them standing in the room without comment, but remembered them well.

Then he noticed one of the guards coming towards him. The boy knelt down on the floor in front of him and Lucien noticed uncertainty in his gaze.

"What is it?", he asked. "Go to your post."

"We noticed something back there," said the boy. "There's a wall, but at the bottom of the canal there's a grating to let the water through. It seems that the grating can be opened. Behind it, we'll go on, probably to another section of the sewer. We heard strange noises from there, a screeching and shouting like I have never heard before. We also think we saw torchlight. I think there's something back there we don't want to know what it is.

Malvin raised his head when he said these words. "I told you it was a bad idea to go down here!" he exclaimed. "Now we're trapped!"

"Be quiet!" hissed Lachance. "If you have brains between your big ears, you must know that your shrieking can attract whatever lurks back there!"

"So suddenly the great leader is frightened too," Malvin continued unperturbed.

"Malvin, Lucien is right," said the guard with concern in his voice. "Stop your yelling and be quiet. I don't want to know what that was back there."

"So are you saying it was wise to come down here and run into the open knife?" the Wood Elf countered.

"What I'm saying is shut up," the other boy countered.

"Malvin, that's an order," growled Lucien. "Be quiet!"

"Or what?", Malvin frothed. "Will you punch me in the nose with blood?"

"You know I won't hesitate if you say another word," snarled Lucien.

He was furious at how Malvin dared to challenge him. Usually everyone knew where his place was in the gang, and if someone didn't follow, a few harsh words from Lucien were usually enough to put him in his place. Malvin, on the other hand, suddenly seemed to have gotten it into his head not to give in. The fact that he had done it in this very place did not make things any easier. Nevertheless, Lucien had to show consequences. If he just beat Malvin quickly and properly enough, no one with bad intentions would notice anything.

Would they?

Lucien changed his mind. There was still a risk, though, if he started a fight with the Wood Elf now, especially since he knew how fast he was, faster than he was, even if he was stronger than the small, slim elf.

Malvin had meanwhile got up and raised his fists in a challenging manner. "Come on, come on!" he shouted. "What now, O great leader? Are you scared shitless?"

"Malvin," another of the street children joined in. "Now you just settle down and we'll talk about it when we're done here."

"No, I'll deal with it now, because if I don't, he'll get us all killed!"

When Malvin kicked him in the side not too hard, all good intentions were forgotten. Lucien jumped up and tried to grab the Wood Elf. But at the last moment, he swerved, but stumbled. His opponent immediately took advantage of this and followed him. Only heartbeats later the two boys were wedged together.

"Shit!" cursed one of the guards. "Malvin, you idiot! We got company!"

Lucien didn't notice the scream. But what followed was very real.

"Goblins!" cried someone.

"They're attacking!", someone else shouted.

"Shit, is that a magician?!"

In a rage, Lucien smashed Malvin's face in. "I'll kill you!" he shouted. "This is all your fault!"

"You led us down here!" Malvin growled and spat in Lucien's face, then tried to bite his fingers.

"And you started to shout!" hissed Lucien as he dodged the teeth. His face was angry red and his stomach was filled with rage. That damned Wood Elf would pay for his stupidity. With all his might he beat and kicked at him, more violently than ever before in his life. He barely noticed the chaos that erupted around him. The children of the gang ran in wild fear, while armed goblins pushed through the passageway and pounced on the easy prey. Screams became loud, panic spread.

Malvin could hardly counter the brute force of his opponent. He was still able to dodge some of the blows, but then he had to take more and more and could hardly deal them himself. His nose was already broken and bleeding, as were his lips, and one of his eyes began to swell. He was pushed more and more into the defensive.

At one point, Lucien pulled out his dagger. Suddenly Malvin's face turned ashen and fear grew in his eyes. Lucien reached out with his weapon while his opponent tried to grab his arms. But the stronger Imperial effortlessly pulled him to the ground, easily intercepting the fear-fueled, uncoordinated attempts of the Wood Elf to resist.

The feeling of the dagger sinking into Malvin's chest for the first time was indescribable. Lucien knew only one thing with great clarity: It felt good. The elf froze and opened his eyes wide. Then Lucien pulled the dagger from his chest again and thrust again. And again. And again.

Malvin's resistance died quickly.

Only then did Lucien realize that he had just killed someone. But he was not particularly frightened. With cool composure he watched the bleeding stab wounds in the chest of the elf below him. Malvin's gaze went into the void, still the fear of death was in his eyes.

Then Lucien looked around calmly and analysed what was happening around him.

All this had lasted only moments. The goblins had only just begun to chase the street children, but it became clear that they were hopelessly inferior to the creatures. Lucien knew there was nothing he could do to stop the massacre. Perhaps some would escape, and he would call them together again and re-form his gang. That was all he could hope for. Malvin had received his well-deserved punishment, and that had to be enough.

He rose, gathered himself briefly and then ran away, ignoring the shouts behind him that called him a coward and murderer. He did not care. In the end, every street child had to fend for himself. He was not responsible for the protection of every single one of his gang, so now they had to watch for themselves.

Scurrying through the sewers alone was in some ways easier. A larger group offered more security, but was also more conspicuous. Lucien had always been very stealthy and knew how to move around down here to avoid being noticed.

Since there was hardly any light here anyway, it was easy to hide in the shadows. The stench covered up most of the smells, so that hardly any rat could pick up his scent from a greater distance. And if he didn't want to be heard, he wasn't able to make a sound anyway.

The way back was much easier than the way there. Nobody noticed him, nobody followed him. The screams of his gang had soon faded behind him. In a few days he would begin to search the streets of the city for the survivors and then they would start again. He was annoyed that his plan had failed so thoroughly. Success was within his grasp! But not all hope was lost yet. If only he did not let up now, he would get his success already. Perhaps he should use the time to spy on the rival gang, then he would not only linger on the streets and let time pass by unused.

When he could finally breathe fresh air again, the night was already far advanced. While Lucien quickly moved away from the sewer entrance and hid in a bush, he realized how exhausted he was. His undertaking had been more exhausting than he had thought. So he decided to find a hiding place for the night and rest until morning. Everything else would follow.

He headed back to the Waterfront. Everything was already asleep and even the guards hardly paid any attention to their duties. In a few hours it would dawn, by then even the pulsating center of the Heartland was asleep.

Lucien found a pile of crates that offered a good view protection. He crawled between the crates, curled up and fell asleep.

He did not know what had torn him out of his sleep a short time later. Maybe it was the vague feeling of being watched. Perhaps it was also the sudden shivering that had afflicted him. Something was different than normal.

Alarmed, he raised his head and looked around. At first he noticed nothing unusual, but then he discovered that one shadow was darker at night than the others around him. What was that? It was threatening, he felt it. He felt for the dagger at his side and pulled it out.

"Put the toy away," he heard a female voice emerging from the jet-black shadow.

"Who are you?" Lucien demanded to know. The dagger remained where it was.

"Someone who appreciates your great potential." Suddenly, the shadow moved, revealing a tall, slender figure "I am called Arela Drewani, a Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, and I am here to welcome you into our family. For your heart is black as night and colder than the bitterest winter in the sky. You were born to murder."

Slowly, the dagger came down. The Dark Brotherhood! Of course, even in the gutters of the imperial city one heard of the guild of assassins who paid homage to their bloodthirsty god and committed contract killings in his name and for money. Their reputation was legendary.

Lucien was unsure what to make of the situation. Was he just being offered a chance to escape life in the gutter, or did the appearance of Arela Drewani mean the end of him? Not knowing what to say, he preferred to remain silent.

"Silence is often the best answer," commented Arela Drewani. "And often the more threatening. Good, good. You have committed murder, with a cold heart and without hesitation. You have given a soul to Sithis and consecrated your soul to our father. You belong to us now. You are one of us. But the ritual isn't complete yet.

Suddenly the life of the young lmperialist changed completely. He saw the opportunities that had been presented to him here. He would get off the streets, no longer have to fight for his survival every day, no longer have to suffer hunger and cold. The life of an assassin, although not safe for a long time, was far less dangerous than that of a homeless street urchin. The price for this would be blood, but Arela Drewani was right: Lucien killed in cold blood. He had done it once, he would do it again without asking.

"What must I do?", he asked.

He thought he heard a soft laugh under the hood. "That's it, I like that," said Arela Drewani. "Go north, to the northern shore of Lake Rumare. Near the fortress of Caractacus you will find a settlement called Aleswell. Someone wants the Argonian Seed-Neeus dead and it is up to you to kill him. Only then is your contract signed, signed with the blood of your victim."

"Who is Seed-Neeus ?" Lucien wanted to know.

"Just a beggar who picks up what he finds and does the cheap services in the settlement that no one else wants to take over," explained Arela Drewani. "He is weak and cowardly, so killing him should be child's play even for you."

"And then?", the young Imperialist asked further. "Then what shall I do?"

"Sleep, child of darkness, and I will come to you," the spokeswoman promised him. "When the deed is done, you will know all that remains and become a full member of the Dark Brotherhood."

Lucien felt disappointment rising within her. He had already taken one life, but now he was to take another to be accepted? For a brief moment he had hoped that Malvin's death would be enough to show the Dark Brotherhood that he was worthy of them. But it was as it should be. The description of the Argonian didn't sound too challenging, he would surely make it.

When he looked up again to tell the Speaker that he would accept the assignment, she had already disappeared. He looked around, but nowhere was there a trace of her to be found. Only a faint sweet smell hung in the air, which somehow reminded Lucien of decay.

Then he shook his head and lay down again. As soon as he had rested, he would set off and do what he had been ordered to do. And then his new life would begin.


	3. Homecoming (part 2)

Lucien had never left the Imperial City. He had never even thought about doing so, let alone what lay beyond what he could see from the shores of the island. Leaving his old life behind was easy for him. Taking the step into a new one was something completely different. A world of unimagined size lay before him, not limited by thick city walls and house fronts. He would be able to walk for days and still have nothing but wilderness around him. The unfamiliar boundlessness frightened him.

Nevertheless he steered his steps unperturbed around the western shore of Lake Rumare. The streets were empty, hardly a traveller or a rider of the Imperial Legion met him. That too was unusual. He was always surrounded by the babble of voices of the big city, always there were people from whose eyes he had hidden himself or whose presence had protected him from the eyes of others. But suddenly loneliness surrounded him.

He'd better get used to it, he told himself. As an assassin, he would certainly spend a lot of time in the wilderness. So he continued unperturbed along the Red Ring Road northwest of the lake. So many trees around him, so many birds! And look at the wind! Never had he heard wind rushing and blowing like it does here.

But he also had to realize that the wilderness was a dangerous place. Not long after he had left the city behind him, he already saw the first wolf. Instinctively he knew that this was no enemy for him and he ducked behind some rocks. But too late, the wolf had already caught his scent. Smelling an easy prey he jumped loudly barking in his direction. Full of fear Lucien climbed up the rocks, but he had to realize that they were hardly high enough.

Teeth-breaking, the wolf jumped up on them, while Lucien sat as high as possible and drew his legs while he pulled out his dagger and waved it clumsily in the air.

"Get out," he cried, hoping the noise would scare the animal away. "Go away, I don't taste! Do you hear? I don't have any taste. Not enough taste in me!"

Unfortunately, that didn't help much. Although the wolf no longer jumped up the rocks, instead he crept around him, still snarling and gnashing his teeth, lurking and waiting for an opportunity.

Lucien's brain was working at full speed. He wasn't strong enough to overpower the wolf, not to mention that his dagger was a joke against the beast. So what could he do? Very little, alas.

His salvation came unexpectedly close.

"Hey, boy!" he heard someone calling from afar from the road.

When he turned around, he saw a legion rider on a horse. The soldier seemed to have seen for himself by now that Lucien was in distress, so he got off his horse and drew his sword. With a loud scream he threw himself on the wolf. The animal noticed the danger and recognized in it the far greater threat than in the boy.

The fight lasted only briefly. Against the heavy plate armour of the soldier the wolf did not succeed. After only a few blows of the sword, he pinched his tail between his legs and ran away, howling. The soldier turned to Lucien.

"The danger is over, you can come down," he said.

Lucien followed in haste. "Thank you," he pressed out between his teeth. He had a healthy distrust of the Imperial Legion, but perhaps the soldier didn't realize that he was a street rat from the Imperial City.

"What are you doing here so alone and defenceless in the wilderness?", the stranger asked.

"I'm looking for berries for my mother," lied Lucien. "We are poor and she is sick and weak, so I have to do this alone."

"Do you live far from here?"

"We have a cabin in the big forest, maybe an hour from here." Lucien pointed in any direction at the Great Forest. Somewhere there would certainly be a hut like that. He just hoped the soldier didn't have to check.

But he just nodded. "Take care, then. If you meet a wolf again, scream as loud as you can and throw stones at him. That will scare most animals away," he advised. Then he went back to his horse, mounted and rode on his patrol.

Lucien looked after him to make sure he didn't care about him any further. Only then did he turn away and go his way.

He would still have a lot to learn, he realized, if he could not even defend himself against a wolf.

After a few hours, the sun was already high in the sky and had passed its zenith, he saw the first houses appearing before him among the trees of the Great Forest along the road. This must be Aleswell, he thought to himself and thought about how he should proceed from there. In the last hours he had not really thought about it. Somehow the thought had settled in him that he would go here, kill Seed-Neeus and then find a safe place to sleep. Now it dawned on him that it would certainly not be that easy. He decided to lie in wait near the village and watch it.

A little bit off the road he found some bushes that seemed to be suitable. Here he had a good overview of the village and at the same time he could not be discovered so quickly, especially if one did not look for him.

He had quickly located the inhabitants: a Dark Elf, two Nord and an Imperial lived here in the small village. Probably someone still worked in the tavern he could make out along with the other two houses. The inhabitants of Aleswell also ran a small farm with a vegetable field and some animals. All in all manageable.

Seed-Neeus was the only Argonian in the village and therefore easy to locate. He was loitering around, doing this and that. The villagers did not look at him too friendly, but tolerated him otherwise.

Lucien waited until evening. When the sun began to disappear from the horizon, the villagers went to the tavern. Only Seed-Neeus stayed behind. He sat down by a fireplace in the village centre and began to prepare his meagre dinner in a small cast-iron pot. The prospective murderer sensed his opportunity.

As quietly as he could, he crept out of his hiding place and into the village, always careful to stay in the shade. He had no wish that the villagers, should they catch a glimpse of him from the tavern windows by chance, would see him.

Seed-Neeus, unaware that his life was in danger, thoughtlessly devoted himself to his food, which he sipped from a bowl. He never noticed the boy. Silently he pulled his knife and crept up to the Argonian from behind. His heart was beating so loudly that he feared the Lizardman could hear it. But this was not so.

Lucien's hand was very still when he killed someone deliberately for the first time in his life. He reached out and lowered the knife deep into the back of his victim. Seed-Neeus gasped and stabbed Lucien again. Before his victim could scream, he plunged the knife into his neck. He didn't know which way to aim, so the blood gushed wildly as he pulled the knife out of the flesh. The Argonian gurgled and tried in vain to stop the bleeding with his hands as he slipped from his stool. The bowl with the stew had fallen to the ground rumbling, but no one paid any attention to it.

Lucien was already over the Argonian who had fallen to the ground, again he swung out and this time he sank his dagger into the chest of his victim. He enjoyed the sensation of tearing flesh and warm blood on his skin as Seed-Neeus wriggled ever more weakly beneath him. Lucien pressed the dagger as deeply as possible into the wound and turned it over several times. An animal grin lay on his face as he watched the Argonian die. He realized that he took great pleasure in murdering. Surely he would be in good hands with the Dark Brotherhood.

The agony wasn't going to last much longer. Soon the Argonian lay still, terror in his empty eyes. Slowly, Lucien rose to contemplate his work. The deed was bloody and the traces of the fight were unmistakable. First he thought about whether he should remove the body, but then he said to himself that this would hardly make a difference. The blood would reveal that Seed-Neeus had been killed. Probably the villagers wouldn't mind if the beggar was dead anyway.

Without looking back, Lucien left.

He had found a camp for the night somewhere in the forest in a leafy hollow. If the speaker kept her word, she would find him here. And so it happened.

"The deed is done", she greeted him after he was awakened by her cold presence. "How do I know this? You will see that the Dark Brotherhood knows ways and means. Seed-Neeus is dead, his blood the ink, and the manner of execution the signature. You are now a member of our family, she will welcome you with open arms. Welcome, Brother."

Lucien couldn't help but put a smile on his scrawny features. "What's going to happen now?" he asked.

"Go to Cheydinhal to the abandoned house. In the cellar you will find a Black Door, try to open it. They'll ask you a question and you'll answer, "Sanguin, my brother. Then they'll let you in. Talk to Cassius Proximo there, he will introduce you to your new family and introduce you to the other members of the refuge and, more importantly, to our five tenets. For us now, the time has come to say goodbye. Go now on your dark path and wade in the blood of the enemies of Sithis. I will watch over you, even if we won't see each other for a long time."

With these words, she had disappeared into nothingness, just as she had done when they first met. Lucien had so many more questions, but apparently they had to wait until he had reached the refuge.

Cheydinhal. He didn't know exactly where it was, only that the small town was somewhere in eastern Cyrodiil. The best thing for him to do was to just keep following the ring road and wait until sometime a road to the east went off. Surely he would find his destination then.

Only when he had left Aleswell far behind him, he ventured back onto the road, crossed it and headed for the shore of the lake. Blood still stuck to him, which he better wash off before he met the next traveller.

The blood on his clothes was unfortunately very difficult to remove even halfway. He hoped that it would not be noticed and cursed because his clothes were now cold and clammy. But it had to work. He still had a long way to go and hoped to reach his destination before noon.

The sun was already rising when he finally reached a fork in the road. Near an old fortress ruin, in whose shadow Lucien could spot goblins, he found a signpost. He could not read, but he assumed that the path that led off to the left was his way. Straight ahead the ring road continued, and since that was definitely not the right direction, he turned east, the rising sun in his face.

To his dismay he had to realize that there was more lurking in the wilderness than just wild animals. It did not take long before he spotted the camp of some highwaymen in the distance. And this time he would surely not be so lucky that someone came to his aid.

The bandits didn't seem to have noticed him yet, which might be enough for his luck. Hastily, he looked around. The area here was an open, hilly grassland with only a few, sparse trees, but north of the path a small grove grew. Careful not to make any hasty, treacherous movements, he scurried in that direction. Perhaps this way he could avoid the danger.

He succeeded indeed. The outlaws seemed to have just awakened and were preparing for the day. They drank and ate and did not really pay attention to their surroundings. Their carelessness allowed Lucien to escape their gaze.

Only when he could barely make them out behind him did he dare to go out into the street again. The heartland seemed to be extinct, only every now and then some butterflies and other insects and from time to time a bird flew along the sky. In the distance he sometimes saw a group of deer, but beyond that he could hardly make out any life. Only once he met a travelling Khajiit. He asked her if this was the way to Cheydinhal and to his delight she confirmed this. He stepped out more cheerfully.

After a while he dived into a forest again, and then it didn't take long until he saw the city walls of his destination shimmering weakly through the trees in front of him. Again he could not suppress a grin. His life in the Imperial City was history, for he soon lived a life in the shadows and certainly in luxury and prosperity.

The morning had dawned and Lucien's stomach growled. He was used to hunger and so it was not difficult for him to suppress the feeling. Nevertheless, he thought for a moment about getting something to eat before looking for the abandoned house. What if he was tested again and he had to go there on an empty stomach? But then he decided against it. Should it come to that, which he did not believe, then he would get through this, too. Besides, it was his top priority to actually be accepted into the Dark Brotherhood.

For all the time a soft voice had been whispering in him that all this must be a dream after all. How could someone like him be so lucky and actually make contact with the Brotherhood through a simple murder? How could it be so easy to escape the hard and mostly short life in the gutter?

The guards at the gate gave him wry looks, but still let him pass. And then he entered that city that was to become his new home.

Cheydinhal was completely different from the Imperial City. Not only the much smaller size was immediately noticeable, but also the orderliness and peace. Hardly anyone rushed around here, shouting through the alleys and pushing through the masses with elbows and knees. Not to mention that there were no masses here. The streets were empty compared to those of the Imperial City, at least that's what Lucien seemed to think, although it wasn't the case. He had never seen such a clean place as this, he who was used to living in the garbage of society.

Astonished and with eyes and mouth wide open, he stood at the gate and stared, admiring and absorbing everything around him. Only a rough blow to the shoulder brought him back to reality.

"Watch out, you snotty kid!", one of the town's residents shouted at him. "Don't just stand there gawping, move!"

Lucien made him follow it up. He didn't want to start a fight, and anyway, it was always better to avoid people like that.

Arela Drewani hadn't given any indication where he would find the house, but the town didn't seem too big anyway. A good landmark was the church in the center of the settlement, around which all the other houses were grouped. He would probably just have to walk around it to find what he was looking for.

It turned out to be just as he had suspected. On the eastern side of the town at a small square in front of the church entrance he found what he was looking for. There was no other house in the city that looked as dilapidated as this one. This must be the abandoned house the Speaker had meant.

Lucien hesitated. Only a few people were present, but wouldn't they be suspicious if he just walked into the house? So he started looking for a back entrance. Except for a well next to the house, however, he found nothing that looked like a camouflaged entrance, and the grating of the well was also stuck and the windows on the ground floor could not be broken open. For better or worse he would have to use the main entrance.

This was locked as well, but the lock could be broken. Lucien's small, dainty fingers were skilled and practiced in getting him access to places he was not supposed to enter. The lock was quickly broken. He looked around to make sure no one was looking in his direction, then he scurried into the house.

A musty, dusty smell struck him. Everything in the house was dark, no light was on, and most of the shutters were folded up. The little light was just enough to show him the way past cobwebs and bulky refuse to the cellar door.

Nothing seemed unusual about this house except for the fact that a house in a good residential area seemed to have been empty for so long. Also the cellar seemed to be ordinary, he even found a few old bottles of cheap lint here.

And a breakthrough in the wall. A passage joined him, which seemed to lead deeper into the rock on which the house stood. A red glow came out of it.

Nervously, Lucien pulled out his dagger. All confidence had disappeared from him, and he had to admit to himself that he was facing fear. What was this place? What was going on here?

Nevertheless, he entered the passage. It was short and sloping and after only a few steps he turned left. There Lucien faced what the speaker had probably called the Black Door.

The door seemed to come from Oblivion itself. A red glow came from it, interspersed with black shadows. They seemed to form figures, but Lucien could not say exactly what they did. There was blood on the threshold in front of the door, bloody handprints were visible, as if someone had been dragged away, but had tried to hold on. And there were bones and human skulls everywhere.

He swallowed, and it was probably the bravest thing he ever did in his life and would still do when he went on anyway.

When he approached, a mystical voice came up. "What is the color of night?" he was asked. He could not say from where the voice came or what kind of speaker it was. It somehow seemed as if the voice was not from this world.

He remembered the words of Arela Drewani and gave the correct answer: "Sanguin, my brother."

The door swung open with a crunch and opened to reveal the Shrine.

"Welcome home," hissed the voice.


	4. Knowledge is power

When he stepped through the door, Lucien was greeted by an Imperial in black leather armour. The man came towards him, beaming all over his face. The scars that disfigured his face, however, twisted his smile into an ugly grimace that instinctively made Lucien flinch.

"Oh, don't worry about the scars, boy," said the man. "Just ignore them, occupational hazard, nothing more. I am Cassius Proximo and you must be Lucien Lachance. Arela Drewani has already told me about you. The new promising brother. I was expecting someone who'd be more... handsome. But if the spokeswoman thinks a gutter boy shows promise, then so be it."

"Don't talk so much, Cassius, and get to the point," a High Elf came from behind the scenes.

The Imperial waved and snorted. "Pah!" he did and turned back to Lucien. "I am in charge of this sanctuary, as Arela has surely told you, and I am under her direct command. But everything in order. You are new here, so I will introduce you to the other members of our family and instruct you in our rules."

He led Lucien into what must have been the main room of the sanctuary, an old building amidst the earth. There were doors on both sides and opposite the entrance through which Lucien had entered the sanctuary, another passage led off, but it soon turned to the right so that he could not yet see what lay behind it. On the walls of the sanctuary were large tapestries with the sign of a black hand on a red background. Everything here was lit by torches and candlesticks.

"This here," Cassius said, pointing around him, "is our sanctuary, our home and the place from which we operate. This is where we train and from here we go out into the world to fulfill our missions. I will now introduce you to the others one by one. You will certainly have more to do with them as you train."

He pointed to the High Elf, who was reading in a corner of the main room in a sitting area, but who had followed the arrival of the newcomer with a sinister look.

"That lovely lady there is Caelwen," Cassius said. "She's a pyromaniac, so watch what you say to her. If you cross her, she may blow us all up in a big ball of fire."

Caelwen snorted. "Careful I don't burn you to ashes," she threatened.

But Cassius didn't seem to be impressed by that any further. Instead, he stepped into the passage, Lucien followed in silence.

"The room here on the left is mine," said the Imperial. "If you have any problems or later, if you're up for more difficult assignments for which I'm responsible, you'll find me here."

Lucien nodded and pointed further down the corridor. He soon went downhill and turned left again. "And down there?"

"That's where Vicente Valtieri has his room. At first you'll be under his authority and you'll receive your first assignments from him as soon as you're mature enough. Come on, nipper, let's go say hello."

Cassius knocked at the door and entered with a soft "Come in!"

Vicente was the first really big surprise here. He was a tall, pale and, above all, very gaunt Imperial. But the eyes that spoke of constant hunger were what gave Lucien his last clue.

"You're a vampire!" he gouged out and instinctively grabbed his neck. He had only heard rumours, but they were enough to frighten him.

Vicente grinned and exposed his predatory dentures. "The little twerp think I want to suck him off," he joked.

"Vicente, be nice to him," rebuked Cassius. "I have not yet instructed him in the tenets, he does not know you are bound to them."

The smile did not disappear, but now it became warmer. Vicente turned to the boy. "So you are the new one. I'm curious to see what you're capable of. And don't take offense at my joke, okay? I can be very nice when I want to be. I'd like to offer you a glass of wine as a welcome present, but..." He pointed to his wine goblet, and it quickly became clear that it did not contain what it had been created for.

"But now, if you'll excuse me, Cassius?" asked the vampire. "I have just come across a very exciting work on the Ayleid. Their last king and his crown and all that."

They said goodbye and turned back. As Cassius explained, the refuge had two more rooms: the common room where they lived, ate and slept, and the exercise room where they could test and expand their skills. As the leader promised, Lucien would spend much more time in the latter.

They first went to the common room, where Caelwen had meanwhile moved into and now gestically discussed with a Dark Elf, who was introduced to Lucien as Sares Areles.

"He's our stalker," Cassius explained. "No one is better at gaining entry unseen than he is."

"And no one else shoots a bird's eye out in flight," boasted Sares.

"How pathetic, you have to show off to a child," growled Caelwen.

"Caelwen, enough," Cassius ran at her sharply. "I know you like him the least of all of us, but you are bound by the tenets like everyone else. Remember them! One more misstep and you'll have us doing kitchen duty for a week."

The High Elf gleamed at him, but was silent. Cassius gave her one last stern look, as if to make sure that she actually obeyed him, and then turned away. Two other members still had this refuge, he said, one of them almost as fresh as Lucien.

They found the last two members and with them the second negative surprise after the vampire in the training room. An Argonian here was practicing fighting with wooden knives with a little boy, who must have been about the same age as Lucien. His eyes almost fell out of his head when he recognized the boy.

"Caius!" he exclaimed. His rival, who everyone thought was dead! So, like Lucien, he'd found his way to the Brotherhood.

Upset, Caius stared at his rival, as surprised as he was to find him here. The Argonian took advantage of this and gave him a powerful blow in the side, so that he expelled the air panting.

"Dead! Concentrate, rascal," he railed at the boy.

"That was devious," Caius complained.

"We are assassins, we use every trick we can get our hands on, no matter how insidious," hissed the Argonian. "And that was really stupid of you just now. If that were a real sword, I would have cut you in half. Never let yourself be distracted and get off track, boy!"

"As you can see, Shadowscale Tsonashap is our master swordsman," Cassius said. "He will teach you to fight with melee weapons."

But Lucien only had eyes for his rival, who stared at him just as sinister.

Tsonashap noticed the looks exchanged between the boys. "You know each other," he noted.

"This one had his gang of street children just like me," growled Caius.

"Ah, I see. And you were rivals, I understand." Cassius nodded knowingly. "Then I will make it clear to both of you: you are bound by the tenets. Caius, you know them, Lucien I will teach them now. What this means for you is that we no longer tolerate rivalry here. What you were before doesn't matter. Now you are a member of the Brotherhood and part of the family."

Both boys felt the same reluctance, but although Lucien did not know the tenets, which had now been mentioned several times, he instinctively felt that harsh punishments would follow if he violated them. He did not like the idea of Caius being here, however, and he was already thinking in secret about how he could get one over on that bastard.

"Well, at least you have met all the people of this refuge, Lucien," Cassius said in a softer tone. "Nevertheless, I'm sure there will be many questions left unanswered. Come, I will answer them willingly."

They returned to the main sanctuary room and went to the corner where they had previously encountered Caelwen reading. Several small bookshelves stood here and a red carpet was laid out on the floor, as soft as Lucien had never felt before in his life. Ignoring the boy's fascination with the carpet, the sanctuary leader sat down and grabbed one of the books behind him. He handed it to Lucien, at the same time important to him, to sit down.

"These are the Five Tenets," he said. "They guide and guide us on our path as assassins."

Lucien knew at once that he had never held in his hands such a valuable object as this book, bound in leather and parchment. In fact, it was quite unadorned, with neither gold letters nor illuminations.

He looked at it for a while and then raised his head. "I can't read," he made clear.

"I already thought so," replied the Imperial. "Then you will learn and this book will be the beginning. For the time being, it will have to suffice for me to give you the tentes orally. Know that violating them will result in severe punishments and that we know no mercy in their execution. It is only because of the tenets that the Brotherhood can exist. So listen carefully. First Tenet: Never dishonor the Night Mother. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Second Tenet: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Third Tenet: Never disobey or refuse to carry out an order from a Dark Brotherhood superior. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Fourth Tenet: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis. Fifth Tenet: Never kill a Dark Brother or a Dark Sister. To do so is to invoke the Wrath of Sithis."

"I already thought so," replied the Imperial. "Then you will learn and this book will be the beginning. For the time being, it will have to suffice for me to give you the tentes orally. Know that violating them will result in severe punishments and that we know no mercy in their execution. It is only because of the tenets that the Brotherhood can exist. So listen carefully. First Tenet: Never disgrace the Mother of the Night. This action will arouse the wrath of Sithis. Second Commandment: Never betray the Dark Brotherhood or its secrets. This action raises the ire of Sithis. Third Commandment: Never disobey the orders of a superior member of the Dark Brotherhood. This action arouses the wrath of Sithis. Fourth Commandment: Never steal the possessions of a Dark Brother or Sister. This action arouses the wrath of Sithis. Fifth Commandment: Never kill a Dark Brother or Dark Sister. This action raises the ire of Sithis."

"This Sithis seems to be easily enraged when so many actions raise his wrath", Lucien stated.

"Don't joke about our Dread Father!", Cassius chided him severely.

Frightened, the boy retracted his head.

The Imperial took a deep breath and leaned back. "But for once I want to forgive you. You don't know much about Sithis yet."

"But surely you'll tell me about him, won't you?" Lucien asked.

"Of course. But know that it is difficult to understand the nature of our Dread Father," Cassius stressed. "He bears many names: Chaos, damnation, strife. Sithis is the void and his bride is the Night Mother. The Dark Brotherhood was born of their love, we, their children, serve the Mother, our unholy Mother Superior.

But we also have worldly organs: the Black Hand. You have already met one of its members, Arela Drewani. The Black Hand has five members, four Speaker and one Listener. Four fingers and a thumb. They reach out to the world and subject it to our influence. The Listener is our supreme member, he alone may listen to the words of the Night Mother and passes them on to his Speakers. They act in his name and care for their sanctuaries. Arela Drewani is in charge of this sanctuary, from her we receive our orders. She forwards them to me, and I select the members I deem most suitable."

"And the Night Mother? What is her role in all this? How does she know about the missions?" Lucien asked.

"Have you never heard of the Black Sacrament?" Cassius asked. "That ritual that those who request our services perform. Nightshade, human bones and a human heart. The Night Mother answers her prayers and speaks to her listener. Then a Speaker of the Black Hand asks the petitioner and discusses the details of the task with him. This is how we get our orders and this is how you now know where we get all our knowledge from. The Night Mother is everywhere at once, she sees and hears everything and nothing escapes her. She has also chosen you, through her we already know so much about you. For knowledge is above all else: power."

Lucien shivered when he realized how powerful the Brotherhood was. If their fingers were indeed as all-encompassing and all-pervasive as Cassius implied here, then they were a not-to-be-missed greatness in Tamriel.

"But how is it that we live here right under the eyes of the citizens and the Count of Cheydinhal and yet we are not molested," he asked.

"If there is one thing you will learn very quickly, it is that the citizens of Tamriel are very good at not seeing things they do not want to see," Cassius replied with a grin. "Besides, the count is very fond of gold, and we have a lot of it. Which brings us to the organizational part. Come along."

He rose and told Lucien to do the same. Together, they went to the sanctuary leader's room. He headed straight for a large chest in one of the corners and opened it. He took out a suit of armour, as Lucien had seen it with most other members of the sanctuary.

"You're scrawnier than I thought, nipper, so perhaps the armour needs adjusting," said Cassius. "But it is yours now. All of us possess such Shrouded Armor, and I think you will find its advantages much to your liking. It has enchantments that support your abilities as an assassin. We will also provide you with weapons when you are ready. They may not be the best, but if you do your job well, you may well get a bonus to the usual reward. The reward itself is usually in gold, several hundred Septims depending on the type of order."

Lucien thought he heard wrong. He hadn't even dreamed of that much money! He stared awestruked at the armor in his hands. It was made of extremely soft and light leather and he would certainly be able to move in it almost silently if he was a little more experienced. The armour included a black hood of something Lucien could only assume was velvet, since he had never touched a similar fabric before. The gentle tingling sensation on his skin made him suspect that this was due to the enchantments Cassius had spoken of.

The boy preferred not to imagine what value he was holding in his hands here.

"Thank you," he whispered, completely speechless. He never expected to be treated so well and to be given such sinfully expensive gifts!

"We care for our members," Cassius stressed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "But now come. I can hear your stomach growling all the time. You must be hungry. Eat as much as you like. Then I'll give you to Vicente. He will see to your education." Then he added: "Ah. And you really don't have to be afraid of him. You know our tenets and know that he is bound by them as well as anyone."

Lucien nodded, his armour pressed tightly against his frail chest. If Cassius said so, then this would certainly be true.

They went into the shelter's living quarters. Lucien sat down at a table while Cassius brought him bread, cheese and even mead.

"From the Honeybrew brewery in Whiterun, Skyrim," he said. "Taste it, I bet you've never had anything like it."

Grinning, he watched as Lucien didn't know what to eat first. He liked to gobble up cheese and bread all at once and tipped the mead down as if it were water.

"Slowly, slowly, nipper," laughed Sares, who was also still present. "Or else you'll end up lying under the table, drunk. With Caius we had the spectacle the other day, and you're even scrawnier than he is."

"What's a Shadowscale?" asked Lucien mumbling with his mouth full. Some breadcrumbs fell out of the corner of his mouth. He wiped hastily with the back of his hand, so as not to lose any of the delicious food. Never before had he eaten such fresh cheese and such sweet bread. And the mead first! The cheap booze he had sometimes picked up on the street was nothing compared to that.

"I mentioned it at Tsonashap, right," Cassius said. "For now, one thing, never mention to him the meaning of his name in Jel."

"Why not?" Lucien wanted to know.

Sares snorted away. "His name is Swimming Frog. In my opinion, a very fitting name, but he doesn't like it at all."

"He's Argonian, so he loves to swim," explained Cassius. "Also, when he fights with his blade, he jumps back and forth like no one else. This is his advantage in battle, since he is very difficult to catch, but it is very reminiscent of a frog.

But now to the Shadowscales. Every Argonian born under the sign of the shadow is such a Shadowscale. They are the agendas and assassins of Black March. When the young Argonians are old enough, they are taken to Morag Tong or, as in Tsonashap's case, to the Dark Brotherhood. Their lives are dedicated to the Brotherhood and they become one with the Shadows."

"What about the Morag Tong?" Lucien asked. He knew only rumors of that organization, too.

Sares sucked in the air. "A difficult subject, nipper, a difficult subject," he said. "We of the Brotherhood don't like to hear about the Morag Tong, since they are our competitors. Better not ask any more questions and stay out of their way if you can."

Meanwhile, Lucien had finished his meal and was looking for more.

"Better not", Cassius stopped him. "I imagine your stomach is used to being empty or nearly empty most of the time. Eating so much at once is counterproductive."

Lucien nodded in annoyance. He did not want to admit that his stomach was already stretched painfully. Still he still wanted more food, but he saw that he would have to be patient with it.

Cassius stood up. "If you have no further questions, then choose one of the beds and sleep it off. Report to Valtieri tonight."

With these words, Cassius turned away. Only Sares remained, but he devoted himself to his equipment, which was stored in a chest in front of one of the beds.

Uncertain, Lucien walked to the beds that were lined up on the other side of the room. He had never slept in a real bed before, not even on a straw mattress. Such luxury had never been found in the gutters of the imperial city.

"Go ahead, take any," the dark elf cheered him up. "For the beds, unlike the contents of the chests, we make no claims of ownership."

"It's just... I've never lain on a bed before," mumbled Lucien sheepishly. "Let alone that I've ever lived as well as I have in the short time I've been here. If I lie down, I'm sure I'll wake up and realise that it was all just a dream."

Sares laughed. "Pah, if it's nothing more," he exclaimed. "Then sleep and find that your dreams are no match for reality. You know, I'm from the gutter too. I know what it's like there."

Immediately, the boy wondered if he might know Sares. But then he realized that the elf was much older than him, although Dark Elves with their grim, furrowed faces always seemed more mature than they might have been in reality. But then it occurred to him that Sares was definitely at least twice his age, if not three times his age. No, Sares had certainly left his time as a gutter dweller long before Lucien had landed on the streets.

"It was no different for me at first," the elf continued, "but then the Brotherhood found me and said to themselves that a thief with my merits would be better off with them than with the Thieves' Guild. The Grey Fox doesn't know what he has missed with me."

Lucien had, of course, already heard about the Fox. It was hard not to know that name in the Imperial City. The Grey Fox was to be the mysterious leader of the Thieves' Guild, which operated in the shadow of the Imperial City. The boy was able to confirm that there was a Thieves' Guild, although the guards mockingly denied it, but he didn't know the truth of the rumors of their leader. Allegedly he had stolen a powerful artifact from the Daedra Princess Nocturnal himself. Under her eyes! Lucien thought it was a gross exaggeration to recruit enthusiastic newcomers.

"Why did you not join the Thieves' Guild?" he asked.

"It's boring to rob people when you can't harm them," the dark elf stressed. "Even if you had to demonstrably defend yourself, you have to pay a blood price. Once I had gone to my limit, I was not prepared to pay that price (and I'm not now), so I was banished until I paid. But then Arela Drewani came along, and I couldn't care less about the blood price."

"Can you tell me more about Arela?" Lucien asked.

"Every speaker has at least one refuge," said Sares. "I don't know if Arela has more commands, but at least this sanctuary is under her command. Cassius is her executive organ, while she has other duties as Speaker, as I'm sure Cassius has told you.

Arela herself is very energetic and determined. When she has a goal in mind, she pursues it relentlessly. And she expects the same from her sanctuary. If one of the family members does not fulfil what she demands, she can become very uncomfortable. So make sure that never happens, nipper. Caelwen's an old witch, but Arela... yes, she's the one you should fear once you've turned her against you. But what else do you expect from a Dark One?" Sares winked tellingly and then went on: "Our tenets forbid us to kill each other, there was never any talk of injuries of any kind."

That was definitely information the boy would take to heart. That Caius was also a member of the Brotherhood was a thorn in his side and caused him an unpleasant draught in his stomach. But how he would react against his rival could wait until he was more rested.

"Thank you," he said, turning to the Dark Elf and inspecting the bed he had been standing in front of all the time, not daring to stain it with his dirty little hands. Sares looked at him for a moment and then turned back to his equipment, smiling, when he saw that the conversation was over.

Slowly, hesitantly, Lucien sat down on the mattress, fearing that as soon as he even touched the fabric, disaster would strike. But nothing happened.

The bed was not the softest, nor was the fabric the finest, but since Lucien had never sat on a bed, let alone lain on it, he did not care. Sometimes, during burglaries, he had pricked his fingers into the mattresses of the inhabitants of the house to see what it was like to lie on something like that, but actually doing it was something completely different.

Slowly, still dressed in clothes and shoes, as he was used to, he stretched out on the mattress. It was filled with straw and crackled with every movement. But for the boy, it was like floating on clouds. He was used to sleeping on the floor or between boxes, wrapped in an old piece of cloth he had fished out of the sewers. But here he had a complete bed with mattress, blanket and pillow! He still couldn't believe the luxury he had been given, and yet he had fallen asleep immediately.

The impenetrable shadows scurried silently through the darkness. He did not know who they were, nor where they were. Only that there was danger. What kind of danger? Where did it come from? Did it threaten him or just the shadows? Was it deadly or just threatening?

The shadows whirled wildly, flung around him on all sides. Were they perhaps the danger? But no, they seemed to want to protect him.

He ran. An unbridled protective instinct flared up inside him. The family was in danger. He'd done something wrong. Or someone close to him? He ran and ran and ran.

Suddenly he was standing on an icy plain. The wind howled and drove ice crystals painfully into his face, cutting his skin and burning. Soon he was bleeding from numerous small wounds. Each of them was not threatening, but in their large numbers they drove him to his knees.

The snow around him turned red. The shadows had left him by now and, it seemed to him, were just watching from a distance. He was alone, so alone. No living creature for miles around kept him company in the ice hell.

His powers left him at the same speed his blood flowed from his body. He was covered with it all over. Desperately he pressed his weak hands against his body with weak pressure, but they were too small to do anything. Powerless, he had to watch him die.

Then he fell.

He fell through a swamp of hatred, fear, despair and all the other mean emotions that a rational being could only feel. They were not his, not all of them at least, but they penetrated him from all sides, penetrated every pore of his body, mercilessly exploited his wounds and took root in him. They burrowed into his intestines, ate through his brain and robbed him of his sanity.

All of a sudden... silence. peace.

Velvety, soothing blackness enveloped him. He felt safe, like in the arms of the mother he had never known. He knew exactly that he could not say what motherly love felt like, but he could say with certainty that this was a mother's love for her children.

But this mother also demanded something from her children. Blood, and blood he gave his mother all too willingly.

He bathed in lakes of blood, soaked himself and drowned himself. The beautiful crimson on innocent white. The wine-red fountains of the palaces of the courts of Tamriel.

There were others with him, others like him, seeking their mother's love and honouring their father's name.

Sithis. The Void. The Nothingness. Death. Destruction.

Suddenly there was nothing greater than serving that name. This God. The one true, true God of Tamriel, who ruled through terror and tyranny, but gave greatness to those who followed him. His children were loyal to him.

He grew up safe and sound among his family. He became a man and from now on he knew only one thing:

All honour to Sithis!


	5. The Year of Woe (part 1)

Lucien awoke with a wink. Motionless he stared at the ceiling for a while and wondered what a strange dream this had been. He rarely dreamt, and when he did, it was mostly incoherent rubbish. That too had been incoherent nonsense, no question. But only at first glance. If he looked more closely, he realized that the dream had been surprisingly clear despite its confusing images. It didn't make any sense to him, but he felt he had to make sense.

But one thing was clear: The Dark Brotherhood was central to the dream and had shown him that he was truly a member of their family. They had welcomed him with a warm and hearty welcome and had no intention of putting him back on the street so quickly.

For his arrival at the shelter had not been a dream, contrary to his fears.

He was no longer alone in the common room. Sares, Tsonashap and (to Lucien's displeasure) Caius had sat down at a bench and ate something together, which the boy assumed was their dinner, since he did not know the exact time.

"Ah, nipper, you are awake," the dark elf greeted him as Lucien made preparations to get up from his bed.

"Come sit with us. Tsonashap was cooking, which means fish soup."

The Argonian hissed outraged, but said nothing more. Caius gave his rival a look unnoticed by the adults, which made it clear that he neither tolerated Lucien, nor that he had been so readily accepted.

The Imperial declined the offer as a precaution to get Caius out of the way. "Thank you, but I think Vicente Valtieri is waiting for me. At least that's what Cassius said to me earlier."

"Normally," hissed Tsonashap, "I would emphasise that's a very good attitude, Murderer. The word of Proximo must be obeyed. But for once, you're missing my specialty! Go ahead, I'll pick something up, but the soup tastes much better warm."

Lucien could not understand how the two adults could not notice the icy atmosphere that had built up between him and Caius.

"That's very nice, Tso... Tsosha," he said in a hurry.

"Tsonashap", he said to him.

"That's right. But I really must go now."

"May your Year of Woe begin", he heard the Argon sighing behind him. "You really should have had the soup."

The Year of Woe... What the Argonian might have meant by that? He would have to ask Vicente. Even if he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of voluntarily entering a vampire's territory. Tenets or no tenets, the knowledge about vampires, with which he had spent his whole life so far, he did not give up so quickly.

Valtieri waited for him in his room in the lowest part of the refuge. He was still reading and had a carafe and a goblet standing next to him on the table. As before, neither of them was filled with wine.

"I have put some water for you," the old vampire greeted him. "Please, sit down." He pointed to another chair.

A little stiff, Lucien sat down and silently awaited the things to come. 

"You'll get used to my presence," the vampire promised with a smile that could be described as warm. As far as this could be possible with a grimace like his. His face was pale like the moon and so gaunt that the bones were only too clearly visible underneath. His lips were narrow and bloodless, and exposed his fangs, which were made to tear open arteries.

He took another cup from a shelf behind him, reached for a ceramic carafe and poured it into the boy before handing him the drink. Lucien wrung a grateful smile from himself and forced himself not to stare too intensely at the inhuman face.

"I must apologize," said Vicente. "A vampire's powers increase when he is hungry. However, this also has certain ... effects on his appearance, as you can see. Normally I prefer this state to take advantage of its benefits; everyone in the Brotherhood knows what I am, and since I rarely go among the common people anyway, I need not hide. But I could have imagined that I would make a strange impression on new members, I keep forgetting. It was no different with Caius, and he came to us only a few weeks before you!" He sighed. "I seem to be getting old."

Then he waved. "But that's not the point now," he changed the subject. "I'm sure Cassius Proximo has given you the basics, so now it's my turn."

"He said that you would take care of my education," Lucien said. Carefully he sniffed the water and found it harmless. When he drank it, he was once again astonished to the utmost. Never before had he drunk such clear and clean water! In the Imperial City he had usually only had brackish puddle water or the broth from the harbour and had often fallen ill from it. Rainwater had seldom remained fresh long enough for him to drink it.

"I will guide you, yes, and give the right impulses," said Vicente Valtieri. "You will be trained by the other members of the sanctuary. You may have noticed that each of us has certain talents. You'll be able to benefit from them as everyone else, but where your strengths lie remains to be seen."

"And when will I get assignments?" Lucien asked hastily.

The vampire laughed within himself. "Such an eager boy", he commented. "When you're ready, of course. Of course, you will not be allowed to kill on your own at the beginning, but you will only accompany other members of the sanctuary on their missions. That will also be part of your training, Murderer."

"But if I am not yet allowed to kill, why do you call me murderer?" the boy wondered.

"Because that is your rank now, one of seven," Vicente said. "Of course, he is the lowest of the ranks. He is followed in ascending order by the Slayer, Eliminator, Assassin, Executioner and finally the Hand: the four Speakers and their Listener. Most of the members of our refuge are already assassins, a fact for which our refuge is highly praised, since we provide some of the best Brothers and Sisters. Cassius Proximo is already an Executioner, as am I. Cassius reached this rank earlier than I did, which is why, after our previous head of sanctuary was killed, he was appointed his successor. I, having the same rank, am Proximo's deputy and, on his behalf, take care of the affairs of the sanctuary for which he cannot spare the time. Therefore I am also responsible for the training of the newcomers. Later, when you reach a higher rank, Proximo will be responsible for you and your assignments."

That sounded promising. 

"And how do I move up in rank?" he asked at the same time.

"By respecting our tenets and demonstrating your ability," Vicente said. "It is at my discretion and that of Cassius Proximo in the first place, when that time comes. Prove yourself to me, and I will approach our leader of sanctuary and make him the proposal to elevate you in rank. If he agrees with my views, this will be done." 

Lucien's ambition was aroused. The best assassin was given the highest ranks in the Brotherhood. If he did his best, one day he would be the best. Perhaps he could make it to a member of the Hand? The Hand's power was most tempting.

"Tso... Tsoshashnap mentioned a Year of Woe earlier," Lucien said. "What did he mean by that?"

"His name is Tsonashap," corrected Vicente. "You'd better remember it. He doesn't like to be spoken to about the meaning of his name, or even wrong. This as good advice, since the lizard can get very uncomfortable. What he meant is your first year here. This is what we call for fun the first year of training of every newcomer. You'll have to go through a lot of hardships and show the highest discipline. The first year is always the hardest. It's the selection that separates the wheat from the chaff, so to speak. Hence, the Year of Woe."

That didn't sound as appealing. Still, Lucien bravely lifted his back and put on a serious face.

The vampire smiled at the boy's body language. "You seem very determined," he said. "That's good, because that's what you need to be to survive here. You must be a part of the Brotherhood with heart and soul and truly become a part of the family. You left your past behind when you entered this sanctuary, now you must let it go. It no longer matters because we are your new family, your new home."

Harshly, the man drove through the air with a gesture. "Actually I'm not really fond of such words, they sound so propagandistic. But they do hit the nail on the head, so I strongly advise you to take them to heart, my little Dark Brother.

What is important for you now is how you are trained. As I mentioned before, you will learn from our other Brothers and Sisters. Yes, you will be taught by Caelwen herself, whether you like her or not, because although she is a master of pyromancy, fire magic, she is also a master of other schools of magic and alchemy. She has developed a fondness for adding a little, as she calls it, touch-up food. If you ever need to murder someone at a banquet, ask her for a poisoned apple."

It spread a wicked smile across Vicente's face. "You wouldn't believe how much fun this kind of murder can be!" Then he picked himself up again. "Let's leave this alone and not get ahead of ourselves. The first thing you'll learn is the basics. Caius is as new as you are, and therefore hardly ahead of you in his learning. You'll learn together with him, having a peer will do you good, I think. The first thing you will learn from Tsonashap is how to handle various blade weapons. You will begin tomorrow. You already have a dagger, but we will provide you with more."

Lucien could not wipe that satisfied grin off his face. He was truly and utterly a Murderer of the Dark Brotherhood! Finally, all the talk was over and he was able to concentrate on what was really important: his training.

Only Caius was a disruptive factor that was a thorn in his side.

The very next day Lucien was to learn that the designation "Year of Woe" was not even remotely exaggerated. It must have been even earlier in the morning when he was rudely awakened, at least that is what he suspected, since he did not feel at all rested.

"A family member of the Dark Brotherhood must always be ready," hissed Tsonashap, who had woken the boy. "No matter what the time. So get up and eat something. I'll meet you in the exercise room in ten minutes."

Grumpy Lucien growled, but said to himself that the lizard was probably right already. So he struggled out of his bed and put on his clothes before he washed his face in a bowl of water and then ate a meager breakfast - meager compared to what he had got the day before, anyway.

To his displeasure, he found Caius in the exercise room when he joined him. Tsonashap stood with crossed arms in the middle of the room stuffed with training equipment and weapons and watched the newcomer from top to bottom. His apprentice stood next to him and could not wipe off a shifty grin that Lucien didn't like at all. Was the boy hiding something?

"You're not wearing the right clothes," the Argonian noted with a displeasing undertone in his voice.

Lucien looked down on himself, but didn't know what was wrong with the clothes he had worn all his life: tattered trousers held in place by a rope, and a shirt that was just as tattered. He had put them back on out of habit. Perhaps he should have worn the armour that Cassius Proximo had given him the day before. 

"Should I change?" he asked. Tsonashap and Caius next to him also wore their Shrouded Armor.

"Not this time, but it will never happen again!" the Argonian threatened. "The Armor is the most precious thing you own. You must get into the habit of wearing it at all times and in all places, when you are not in sanctuary, even when sleeping. It protects and supports you and magically enhances your abilities. It makes us the dreaded assassins that we are. Without it, we're nothing but common bandits who kill for money."

Lucien swallowed his anger at the rebuke and nodded. He didn't like being reprimanded. As the leader of his own gang of street rats, he wasn't used to being rebuked with impunity. But he wanted to prove himself and show his worth, so he had to follow and obey what his teachers told him.

"You are new," said Tsonashap, "and you don't know anything yet. Caius has been here a few weeks longer, but he too is not very far in his training. So I will teach you together. You can still learn a lot from your Brother, which is good, I think. It's always better to learn from each other than to have everything dictated by one teacher."

"I have a dagger and I can use it," Lucien claimed, proudly holding up the weapon. He had already proven twice that he was quite capable of killing someone with it.

Caius laughed.

"Quiet!", Tsonashap hissed at him immediately. "I hear mockery from that laughter, and I will not tolerate it. "

Caius squinted his eyes reluctantly, but he complied.

"Whether you can handle this toy, we'll see," the Argonian again turned to the youngest member of the sanctuary. "It's made of iron and it's already beginning to rust. This is the first thing you will learn: Take care of your armor and weapons, for they are the tools you use to serve Sithis! After training, I'll show you how to do it. Now it's all about how to use your weapons."

Tsonashap meant for Lucien to put away his dagger again. It had hurt the boy more than he wanted to admit that the Argon had more or less directly said that he didn't really know anything yet and that his dagger was far from being the miracle cure he had always thought it was. 

Slowly he had to change his mind, Lucien noticed. He was no longer on the street. He had now joined a guild of assassins who murdered for kings - and sometimes even executed them themselves. They had completely different standards than a street boy who had grown up in the dirt of the gutter.

Tsonashap gave them wooden daggers and had them both set up in front of dolls. Caius seemed to have mastered the basic attitude quite well already, of course in contrast to Lucien.

"Don't stand there like a sack of potatoes," he reprimanded the boy. "There is no movement in your legs, so you will never learn footwork, the be-all and end-all in battle. You have to dance, twirl, jump and confuse your opponent. He hits you like this once, and you are ruined, because you stand there much too stiff.

And how do you hold your weapon? It's not a club that you hit blindly with! Your weapon is a natural extension of your arm, remember that. You must become one with it, forget that it is a weapon and accept that it is a part of you, like your arm or your leg."

And so on and so forth. Tsonashap was flawed in almost everything. Lucien soon became very frustrated and began to talk back. He learned just as quickly, however, that it was a very silly idea. Tsonashap did not tolerate any contradiction and demanded absolute obedience. If something didn't happen fast enough, he would immediately start his apprentices. With some satisfaction, however, Lucien noticed that Caius, although he had radiated great self-confidence at the beginning, still made almost as many mistakes as the bloody novice Lucien Lachance.

In the beginning, they only practiced how to stand and hold their weapons. To all manner of weapons, the Brotherhood had wooden dummies that were amazingly similar to their models. But Lucien was eager to practice with real weapons. The eternal standing and turning of the weapon hand tired him already on the first day. So much theory! What was it all for? But Tsonashap was relentless and would not allow his apprentices to become impatient and hasty.

Hour after hour this went on, and even when the two boys' stomachs rumbled audibly, he didn't allow them a break. His exercises were more demanding than they first appeared, and Lucien's muscles ached. Hunger, although he was used to it, hardly made things any better.

"If you get into an open fight and can't flee that quickly, your opponent won't take your physical condition into consideration," the Argonian indoctrinated them. "On the contrary, he will use it to his own advantage!"

He still had many such cunning sayings, some of whose usefulness Lucien would only understand many years later. At the moment, however, he was just a cheeky, impatient boy who had no desire for any theory and would rather get straight down to serious business. But he tamed his impetuous mind and endured what the Brotherhood had planned for him.

Every day he had to get up early whenever Tsonashap ordered him to, eat something quickly, throw on his armour and appear in the practice room. A kind of competition arose between the two boys, which one of them could be the first to step in front of their Argonian teacher. The latter seemed to tolerate the boys' competition for his favour to a certain extent, as he felt that this encouraged their ambition to learn. 

Once they had entered, they practiced on various weapons, practiced how to hold and lead them, until Lucien finally even dreamed of it. 

"You're holding your weapon wrong."

"I'm not!"

"Sure you are! Where does the thumb go?"

"Ow!

"It's not there. You see what happens then, how easily I could have cut it off?

"That was sneaky! You can't do that!"

"We're assassins, nipper, we don't fight fair. You'd better remember that. There is no fair or unfair here. There is only the death of our contract target or our own failure. Do you want to fail?"

"No, I don't want to fail.

"Louder!"

"No!

But Tsonashap also trained their strength and endurance. They left the city through the back gate near the abandoned house. It was less frequented than the gate at the main road, so it was not so conspicuous when they used it. Then the Argonian led the two young recruits into the forest and chased them up and down the Valus Mountains. For the first few weeks it was pure torture.

"I can't go on!"

"Keep going!

"Tsonashap, I'll die if I take another step!"

"Keep going!

"No! ... Ouch!

"If you talk back to me again, you'll get a harsher punishment than a slap on the arse, understand? Now, you run along and have a drink. We don't stop until I order you to stop. Remember the third tenet and beware of arousing the wrath of Sithis!"

Tsonashap was relentless and also a little cruel in his unforgiving way. But he didn't judge the boys unjustly. Whenever Lucien thought he would drop dead at any moment, the Argonian pushed him to continue. And lo and behold, from somewhere in his slim body he found the strength to do so. Caius, too, was in some way an incentive to do so. Even though his rival had hardly been with the Brotherhood for any longer, he was already a little further along in his training. Lucien couldn't take it on himself that Caius was better than he was, and did everything to catch up and outstrip him as soon as possible.

The competitive spirit of both boys drove them to unexpected achievements. Even Tsonashap could no longer stand by in silence, but had to admit (somewhat reluctantly) that his two students were making better progress than he had expected.

Their breakfast was generally meager, as Tsonashap felt that it was better to train on an empty stomach. Lucien had once disobeyed this and ate more than usual. Somehow the Shadowscale had noticed this and had been particularly hard on them that day. The result was that Lucien soon became nauseous and had to spend the rest of the day on an empty and aching stomach. He never ate too much again.

But in the evening there was even more. At first Tsonashap took care of their food himself, since they were apparently served special food, but after a while he told them how to feed themselves.

"The right food is as essential as the continuous and persistent practice of your skills," he preached. "From this you draw your strength, do not put on excessive fat, and develop muscles in the right places and at the right rate."

Lucien initially thought this was a hoax, but soon realised that Tsonashap was right. It was less than a month before he noticed the first changes in his body. Not only had he become more enduring, but he had also become much stronger. The boy, thin as a rake, gradually became a sinewy boy. He was nevertheless called nipper by the other members, a nickname that would probably stick to him for the rest of his life.

His legs became more muscular, his arms stronger. He could run farther and faster and his handling of the training weapons was no longer so awkward. Even though Tsonashap still easily defeated both boys in a practice fight, he said they were making significant progress. For a real fight it would still be far from enough, he emphasized, but for the beginning their skills were not bad. Their practice fights against each other were at least by now very balanced. While Caius was still superior to his rival in the beginning, they could no longer predict from the beginning which of them would win the practice fight.

A good three months after his arrival at the sanctuary, the day had come when Tsonashap gave them real weapons for the first time, two steel short swords. Real, real steel! The only weapon Lucien had ever held in his hand was his rusty iron dagger from the gutter.

"These weapons are property of the sanctuary," Tsonashap said, looking each one of them earnestly in the eye. "They are spare weapons, should a Brother or Sister lose his or her own weapon for any reason. They are also training weapons that we use in our daily exercises. 

Nevertheless, they are real weapons, not imitation wood wrapped in cloth that can only break a few bones. No, these blades are sharp and they can kill. You have enough skill now that I trust you to wield them without hurting you seriously. Do not abuse my trust by doing mischief and stupid things with it."

"Yes, Master," Lucius and Caius answered in the choir. Their hearts beat faster with excitement and their chests were swollen with pride.

The Argonian gave each of them one of the swords. Lucien, who until now had only been used to wooden weapons, was surprised by the unexpectedly heavy weight of steel in his hands. He almost dropped the weapon, but could barely avoid exposing himself. A bit awkwardly he pulled the weapon out of its sheath and admired the cold blade flashing in the light of the torch.

They were not yet allowed to use the weapons against each other, but only against the wooden dummies standing in the practice room. In this way they were to get used to the unusual weight and internalize the new movements that went along with it. It took another few weeks until Tsonashap allowed them to use the weapons in a practice fight against each other.

Lucien felt the weapon become part of him, a natural extension of his arm. The leather of the grip nestled beautifully into his hand, soft and grippy. The blade sliced through the air as if by itself and soon he no longer had to force it with his will to do what he wanted it to do. It happened by itself. 

His reflexes and instincts were also improving. It no longer needed a conscious decision to fend off a sword stroke from the side, it happened by itself. The movements of the fight became a part of him, felt as natural as walking, sleeping, breathing. 

Sure, in the first weeks since his arrival he had suffered terribly. Constantly he was in pain, bruised and cut all the time, and yet he was relentlessly pushed forward by Tsonashap. He also suspected Caelwen that she was preparing her healing potions for him half-heartedly out of pure malice, so they didn't work properly because the effects were much weaker than he had expected.

Not a day went by without him getting another injury, either because he had been beaten by Tsonashap or Caius in a practice fight, or because he was not yet able to use the training weapons properly. His muscles ached and his skin was covered with wounds and cuts and abrasions. Every millimeter of his body was challenged and tempered. He went to bed in the evening with pain and woke up in the morning with pain. 

But almost imperceptibly this subsided. Tsonashap's training sessions were still not painless, he still received new wounds almost daily. But with time, the pain became less and less troubling, he could handle it better. It occurred to him that this was exactly the point of the tortures Tsonashap inflicted on them.

But he not only taught them how to fight, but also how to prepare for such a fight. He taught them how to take care of their weapons and armor, told them about different types of enemies and how to meet them best. Even some alchemical things he showed them and basic magic to pay for the first treatment of the received wounds after the fight itself. 

In the first weeks Lucien only had lessons with the Argonian. When he had gradually settled into the life in the sanctuary, Vicente called him back to him.

"You are making good progress and are gradually becoming a full member of our family," said the vampire as he welcomed him. "Yet you are still a child of the gutter, uneducated and helpless in the outside world. Your knowledge is enough to keep you alive in the gutter for a few years, but nothing more. If you want to be a successful assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, you have so much more to learn."

Lucien listened in silence.

"We don't just kill people by breaking in somewhere and sticking a knife in our target's heart," Vicente continued. "Very few jobs are that simple. Usually the client has special requests, wants the murder to happen in a very specific way. An accident, uncomfortable food at a banquet, yes, sometimes we even have to win the favour of our victims in months of preparation, only to stab them in bed one day, behind their back, after we seduced them. Yes, we have also had such assignments.

So you see, a murderer must have many talents."

"He must be able to disguise himself," Lucien said. "He must be able to conceal his intentions and pretend to be someone other than who he really is."

"Very good," praised Vicente for the boy's conclusion. "In other words, you must be able to exist in the most diverse societies. "It starts with learning to read and write. Our targets are not always simple hicks, in fact, they are quite rare, because they are far too rarely able to raise the money to pay us. Usually rich merchants and nobles hire us to spin their intrigues and carry out their plots. You must be able to pose as one of their own if a mission requires you to mingle with them. And where would we be if you can't even read and do math?"

So he learned exactly that. At first, Lucien found it very difficult. He wasn't used to using his mind in such a twisted, abstract way, and he had a hard time learning what Vicente wanted to teach him. His first book was the Five Tenets. From these the vampire taught him to read first and then write. Lucien was disappointed with his scribbled handwriting, which simply did not want to look like the elegant handwriting in which the Book of Tenets was written. His ambition did not allow for such an obstacle.

But Vicente, unlike Tsonashap, held him back and kept telling him to be patient. If he forced what he wanted to achieve, he would achieve nothing, the vampire emphasized again and again. In contrast to the fight, this was about nothing, which got better the faster, the more vehemently one tried. Continuously and steadily one had to proceed, was his motto.

It was hard to get into Lucien's head that he could not achieve something by mere willpower and muscle power. Until now this had always been his way to success. Patience and moderation were definitely not his strengths.

His thoughts were tenacious and slow, which is how he felt when he forced himself to laboriously decipher and read letter by letter. When Vicente noticed that Lucien recited the Tenets more from memory than he actually read them, he gave him other works, fairy tales and sagas from all over Tamriel, even children's stories of the Nord. For some reason, Lucien was very fond of "Olaf and the Dragon". He liked the heroic tales of the Nord from the icy, wild Skyrim.

Well, he would like them a lot more if he didn't have such trouble deciphering them. For weeks, the letters on the parchment were a book with seven seals for him. Constantly he forgot the meaning of one or the other and had to learn it again and again. Even the simplest texts like children's stories were a torture for him.

"You try to force it," Valtieri warned, even after weeks. "Be patient. I know it's hard for you, but this isn't about muscle either."

Lucien despaired of the task he had been set. Reading and writing had always been something for rich prigs, and he had nothing but contempt for them. 

"How else will I ever learn what you're trying to teach me here?" he moaned.

"By not straining your mind and listening to what I have to say to you," was the vampire's standard answer.

Somehow, Lucien admitted to himself, he could read. He could read out loud and only very slowly what adventures Olaf had had with the dragon Numinex. It was not at all nice how he read, he could well imagine that, and surely it was also incredibly difficult to understand what he read. But he read.

Vicente was obviously not very happy with the progress of the youngest member of the family, but he was more patient and careful than Tsonashap. He didn't force the boy, but encouraged him to pause and do something other than practice reading and writing.

And he even rewarded Lucien sometimes when he had made progress once again. Sometimes he would bring back from the city small sweets, pastries and other treats. The first time Lucien held one of the little pastries in his hand, he could hardly believe his eyes.

"For me?" he'd asked with astonishment.

Vicente, who looked quite refreshed and clearly human that day (probably for shopping), had to laugh. "Of course!" he said. "Your handwriting is finally no longer an illegible smear, but clearly shows letters. I think you should be rewarded for that."

When the boy had finally internalized that the reward was indeed for him, he greedily devoured it. In the imperial city he had rarely succeeded in stealing sweets from the baker and even more rarely were they still fresh.

Just as Lucien was beginning to feel that he didn't have to bother as much with speech and writing, Vicente made the decision to move on to arithmetic. It turned out that Lucien was an almost hopeless case. While it had already been a torment for him to learn to read and write halfway, arithmetic was like a ride over the plains of Oblivion, pursued by Merunes Dagon himself. Even the vampire, who had shown enormous patience until now, was unnerved after only a handful of weeks by the complete lack of understanding the boy showed even for the simplest mathematics.

"Not everyone can be born for everything," he sighed. "Your talents clearly lie elsewhere. Nevertheless, you must learn that too!"

It was also here that, for the first time since arriving at the sanctuary, Lucien was unable to control his temper. At one point, he literally went through the roof when he just couldn't take it anymore. The punishment followed his foot and consisted of five blows with a cane, a day without food and a particularly hard lesson with Tsonashap.

It was as if a knot had burst. After all the accumulated frustration had been released, Lucien suddenly found it much easier to learn than all the weeks and months before. Vicente was very surprised by this, but accepted the change with good will and took advantage of the opportunity to finally give his student the necessary basic mathematical understanding.

Lucien was surprised all the time that he was learning alone. Caius also took the same lessons with Vicente, as he knew, but they never studied together, as was the case with Tsonashap. He pondered for a long time until he could guess why. It could only have been because Caius made much better progress in reading, writing and arithmetic than he did and therefore his level of knowledge was all the greater. 

He never asked Valtieri the reason, but he was surprised at the sudden eagerness to learn that his pupil showed. The lessons with the vampire still didn't give the boy any pleasure at all and were almost a worse torment for him than the first days under the watchful eye of the Argonian, but now his ambition was awakened. He wanted to be better than his rival. He wanted to surpass him in all things and to rise faster in the ranks of the Brotherhood, to be allowed to order him around as he pleased.

Of course, he did not tell anyone about it, as he could imagine that his ambitions were not welcome.


	6. The Year of Woe (part 2)

A good three months had passed when the time had come for the boys to learn a new discipline. By now they both had mastered the basics of close combat and were able to calculate, read and write on a simple level. In addition to their daily lessons with Tsonashap and Vicente Valtieri, they now had Sares Areles as their teacher. The Dark Elf was to train their skills and teach them archery.

"So that you can enter everywhere unnoticed and lie in wait for your victims from the shadows," he said cheerfully. "You can't imagine how much fun it is to watch the target staring in complete surprise at the arrow in his chest and wondering where it came from before he dies!"

Somehow the Dark Elf was strange, Lucien decided after this announcement.

In general, Sares was a very happy person and talked about his latest orders, such as tea and cake at the neighbor's house. The other members of the family also talked about their murders as if they were the most normal thing in the world, but Sares seemed to feel an exuberant joy in doing so, which almost resembled the enthusiasm of a small child. He was really strange. And somehow he was very sympathetic to Lucien.

"Tsonashap is a go-getter," he said on the first day of her lessons with him. "He strikes and relies on his speed. I, on the other hand, am a still and all the deeper water."

He took one of the bows that leaned against a rack on the wall and presented it to the two boys.

"A bow like that wants to be treated like a living being," he said. "It has feeling and wants to be touched with sense. If this is not the case, the bow can cause you very painful bruises."

He took two more smaller bows from the wall and gave them to the boys.

"Every bow is different," he went on. "There are different types, each one different in material, handling and most importantly, damage. But even within one type there can be differences, depending on which master bow maker carved and strung it. Try it out, stretch the strings."

The boys tried it. Lucien had seen Sares use his bow before, so he was surprised how difficult it was for him to draw the bow with any degree of skill. The Dark Elf had always made it look so easy.

"Handling the bow requires a lot of calm and concentration, especially if you want to make a well-placed shot," said Sares. "If you're hectic, you miss the shot and place it far away from your intended target. Only calmness and composure will lead to the desired result, especially in the middle of a fight. Your first attempts will hardly hit the target, I can already predict that. Your arms and shoulders will hurt, your head will ache with time. But all this will fade away if you stay focused and keep on the job."

Sares Areles gave each of them a quiver with a handful of arrows. The tips were blunted to reduce the risk of injury, but the Dark Elf warned them not to wave the arrows or a bow wildly. Then he gave them various leather protectors for their hands and shoulders to protect them from the hard horsehair string.

When they were fully equipped, he had them lined up in front of a target. The distance was not great and measured a maximum of seven steps, the width of the exercise room. Lucien laughed inwardly at this and thought it must have been easy to hit the target.

But before they were allowed to fire the first shot, even Sares let them practice the basic archery stance for a long time. Again and again they had to cock the bow without an inserted arrow, hold the shoulders and arms correctly, keep the legs in the correct position and practice aiming.

The hit would probably not be so easy after all, Lucien put a damper on his initial zeal. Despite all the exercises with Tsonashap that had given him strength, his arms finally hurt and, despite the schooners, his fingers as well at some point. It was not until the evening that Sares allowed them to take some test shots at the target.

At first the tired boys were happy to finally have to do something else than always dry theory, but the disillusionment quickly evaporated. The spirit of competition had always been strong between them, and so they now sparkled at each other in a challenging way, silently promising to outdo each other.

But none of their shots landed particularly far in the middle. Above all, they hit the wall behind the target, rarely the edge of the straw target.

"How will this ever work in a fight?!", Caius complained frustratedly at the end of the first lesson.

Sares said nothing and just grinned.

In addition to their lessons with Tsonashap and Vicente they now had several hours a day with Sares. He not only taught them archery, but also sneaking and improved their dexterity. In the latter both boys were already very talented, life on the street had taught them a lot in this respect. But they were amazed at what Sares was able to achieve. He could empty their pockets while they stood in front of him and talked to him.

"At the Thieves' Guild, you learn a lot about how to relieve people of useless junk that they just don't know they don't need anymore," he commented.

Lucien always looked forward to the time with the Dark Elf the most. Areles was also strict, as probably everyone here was, but he always relaxed his lessons with jokes and creative exercises. Also they did not always do the same. Every now and then Sares arranged the lessons in a more relaxed way, for example by telling them to sneak through the shelter without him noticing them or stealing this or that object he either carried with him or locked away. By the time they had far exceeded the skills they had acquired as street children (for they learned quickly and eagerly even more of what had marked their whole lives), Sares even allowed them to roam the streets of Cheydinhal and relieve the merchants of many a thing. They were never caught.

"If there's one thing you really know how to do, it's life on the streets," Sares praised. "No wonder, with your past. I rarely had such good pupils. I will tell Cassius about this. I am sure we will find use for your skills."

Lucien prick up his ears at these words. Did it mean that they were finally no longer bloody novices who did not even know the basics?

They made less progress with archery than with their skills in stealth and finger dexterity. Sares knew various methods of calming the body and mind and told them to always do this before bedtime and during their few breaks. 

"This is the only way they can have a lasting effect and make you feel more balanced and calm throughout," he said. "And that's the most important thing about using the bow."

Accordingly, it took them some time before they were able to handle the weapon in any significant way. At first, more shots missed than landed on the target. Lucien was, to his own delight, the first to hit the center of the target more reliably. Visibly to Caius' annoyance, which however drove him to even greater ambition. However, when Lucien first hit the centre of the target, his joy was great. Perhaps archery was not such a great mystery after all, as initially thought.

When they finally hit the center of the target more and more reliably, Sares thought it was time to take them into the woods.

"We are going hunting," he said. "Actually, we don't need this. The Brotherhood makes enough money to buy all the necessary things. But I like to go out into the woods, enjoy the silence and solitude - and train my archery skills here. Hunting game is wonderful, moving targets are much harder to hit. And then to land a deadly shot, that's a fine art."

Here, all their skill at sneaking and shooting was challenged. Both speed and stealth were required. It wasn't enough just to spot the prey. They often had to be tracked for hours, always careful not to draw attention to themselves, paying attention to the wind and surroundings. Everything had to be right to land the perfect shot.

It was understandable that Lucien and Caius could not shoot an animal at first. Their skill was not yet sufficiently developed, so they made a reckless move far too often. A cracking branch, a twitching hand searching for balance and the rabbit or deer was up and away. At first they didn't even try their hand at squirrels, they were too small and nimble. 

Lucien realized that the bow was not a weapon for him. It was clearly not made for him to sit for hours in one place, motionlessly waiting for the prey to come to him or for him to be in a good position to fire a shot. It was like reading and arithmetic: He just didn't have the peace and quiet for it. 

"You are skilled," said Sares. "But not skilled enough. It rages inside of you. The energy literally overflows and demands to be released. You are young, that is normal. But you will have to learn to restrain yourselves. The impetuousness of youth must give way to the serenity of age. You are Murderers of the Dark Brotherhood, and your childhood is long gone."

Lucien was annoyed by these words. Anyway, each of the adults always had such clever sayings in store. He slowly could not hear them anymore and did not want to admit to himself that these very sayings were actually the key to his success.

But when he shot his first rabbit, the joy was great. Caius still resented days later that Lucien had managed to achieve such success before him. Sares, at any rate, was happy for the boy and set up for the evening with the two in the countryside.

"We'll have a nice night under the open sky," he said. "You'll see how wonderful it can be when you're used to living underground in that hole."

"The sanctuary is not a hole", Lucien objected.

"If you're used to the gutters of the imperial city, I doubt it," the Dark Elf agreed with him. "But I've left that behind me for so long, I don't want to remember it. Come, tonight we have roast hare."

He showed them how to make a fire, set up a camp, and finally gut and prepare an animal. It was a bloody trade, but Lucien found his joy in it. He thought about what it had been like to kill Malvin and Seed-Neeus. Killing an animal was not such a great satisfaction, but it was still a very good feeling. He buried his hands in the bloody innards of the rabbit.

The animal was quite lean, but what was on him was quite digestible. For Lucien, it tasted much better again, since it was he who had taken care of their dinner and played his part in preparing it. After many days in the fresh air, the appetite was great.

Now it was always uphill with their shooting skills. More and more often they could shoot deer and rabbits and once Caius even managed to shoot a squirrel jumping off a branch. It was a lucky shot, which he would not be able to repeat so quickly. Nevertheless, Lucien was pale with envy and jealousy, and now it was he who exchanged even fewer words with his rival in the next few days than he already had.

Lucien had now been with the Brotherhood for nearly three quarters of a year when it was time for him and Caius to be taught the final discipline: magic and alchemy. Unfortunately, that also meant that they were now taught by Caelwen, a prospect they were not particularly eager for.

Lucien had avoided her in all the time he could, which wasn't hard because he was almost completely occupied with his training in the basics of his new craft, and also because Caelwen avoided him (like the rest of the family) whenever she could.

"Do not underestimate her," Vicente warned him. "She may not be a very pleasant person to live with, but she is a powerful magician."

Lucien took this advice to heart and hoped it would not lead to too many blisters.

Caelwen made no secret of her distaste for everyone and everything. She disliked the boys even less now that she was forced to teach them.

"You have no magical talent whatsoever," were her first words on the very first day. "You will never be able to learn more than apprentice magic, so don't get your hopes up. But Cassius Proximo wants you to learn at least the basic spells and basic alchemy from me, like every Dark Brother and Dark Sister. So I guess that's what I'll have to do..." She sighed and sparkled angrily at the boys from her slanting golden eyes, as if they were to blame for her suffering.

The lessons became exactly what Lucien had expected of him: an imposition. Caelwen was not eager to encourage them in any way, but was extremely unhappy about any failure. And there were far too many of those, especially in the beginning.

The basics of their sparse magic that the boys learned consisted of simple healing spells for the most basic first aid after injury, as well as simple destruction spells. Caelewen taught them above all fire magic, to which she had a very special affinity. Making fireballs appear out of nowhere and throwing them purposefully definitely looked easier than archery and was far more difficult than this. By now, thanks to Vicente's teaching, Lucien was a bit more used to using his thoughts in strange ways, but magic was so twisted that he already thought he lacked any understanding of it. In fact, he was far more convinced of this than of his ability to read and write at all when he began his lessons with Vicente. 

Caelwen's growing contempt for the boys' incompetence became more and more apparent. Eventually, however, it became so great that Cassius Proximo had to intervene himself.

Lucien did not hear what the leader of the sanctuary said to the arrogant High Elf, but afterwards she at least tried a little harder with her lessons.

She taught them above all destruction, her best and most impressive discipline. She constantly played around with little flames, which she let dance on her fingers, and when she wanted to amaze her students in particular, she conjured true works of art from fire magic.

"There may be frost and shock," she said, "but what will you do with them? Fire is far more impressive and effective. From Elsweyr to Skyrim, fire magic has the most powerful effect."

Lucien realized he wasn't as untalented for magic as Caelwen claimed, but he still wasn't a natural at it. He was clearly more devoted to the physical arts than the arcane. But maybe it was an advantage to master a little magic as well. Maybe one day he had to kill a wizard, then he could defend himself against him after all.

A bit more reluctant, Caelwen shifted to other schools of magic, Alteration, Illusion and even Healing after a while.

"Healing is perhaps the hardest school of magic to master," she said, "but to understand it in depth requires a deeper knowledge of anatomy, and that means years of study. You will therefore only learn the basics from me and learn how to heal yourselves. The spells draw much of your arcane energy, so do not rely on them and do not expect to heal heavier wounds on your own."

She also taught them minor spells from other schools. Open simple locks, for example, but also telekinesis and the ability to conjure small mage lights and create magic shields that dampened magical and physical damage. All the things that could be useful to an Assassin on his way to his target. The spell to almost muffle the sound of his own footsteps was especially fun for Lucien. From then on he used it frequently to sneak up on Caius unnoticed and scare him.

In general, if he could get anything out of magic, the school of Illusion was his favourite and therefore the one in which he made the best progress. Reluctantly, Caelwen had to admit that even with the exception of Destruction spells, she had little more command of the other schools than journeyman spells.

She taught them not only magic, but alchemy as well, and for some reason Lucien found this discipline very interesting. While Caius followed all of Caelwen's classes with only moderate interest, Lucien was, at least here, zealous. The thought of slipping someone poisoned food and then watching them die with relish while he didn't know where the attack came from was a great delight to him.

He shared this view with Caelwen, which earned him all sorts of sympathy points from the elf.

"Poisoned apples are my specialty," she said. "Just put it on a table with other apples and see what happens. It has that certain bittersweet romance, like something out of a fairy tale. Only from the perspective of evil."

A wicked grin crept up on her face as she said those words.

And so the time in the sanctuary passed. Lucien learned about life here and became part of the family. Soon his old life in the Imperial City was forgotten, indeed, he never once asked himself what had become of his former gang. He didn't care if they had all been killed in the goblin raid or if maybe some of them had survived. He also didn't care what might have become of the survivors, whether they had gotten back together again or had perhaps died alone in the gutter.

He was now a Dark Brother like all other members of the family, and thus he served only Sithis.

The life in the sanctuary followed constant patterns. For Lucien, this meant getting up, having something to eat, lessons with Tsonashap, then with Vicente, a short lunch break, then on to Sares and at the end of the day lessons with Caelwen. There were only deviations from this plan when one of the sanctuary members received an assignment and carried it out.

Lucien always looked after them longingly and dreamed of finally being able to carry out an assignment himself, of finally leaving his status as an apprentice of the Dark Brotherhood behind. 

Still, he had very little free time. If a subject was cancelled, he got more lessons in another one. His talents were determined after this one Year of Woe. His dexterity, acrobatics and crawling were his model subjects, as well as alchemy. He was also very skilled with the blade, almost as skilled with the bow. Only with magic he still struggled, even though it turned out that he was quite intelligent and his brain just had to get used to the unfamiliar thought patterns. The Illusion alone, one of the heavier schools, paradoxically came relatively easy to him.

It was truly a Year of Woe. Although Lucien rarely complained, his teaching was nevertheless hard and unrelenting. He only had one day off a week, the Sundas, but he often used this day too to study on his own and, above all, to prepare for his lessons with Vicente. 

Little by little, Vicente had not only taught him to read, write and do arithmetic, but also began to teach him history and geography. He also enlightened him about the numerous noble families and dynasties of Tamriel.

Lucien often felt exhausted and empty and on some days he had to force himself to get out of bed. But he knew that if he didn't, he'd take a beating. So he got up anyway. It gave him at least some satisfaction when he saw that Caius was often no different. Even though they were toughened by all the combat training, it would still take years before they were anywhere near as good as the other Assassins of the Sanctuary. And for them, that meant pain, pain, and more pain. Despite the fact that Caelwen's teaching was one of the things that finally helped them counteract this, they were never completely free of it. 

The risk of injury was also never completely excluded. Even though their teachers were careful not to expose them to unnecessary risks, they caught several wounds. Weapons were weapons, and blunting their blades would not change that. 

But somehow, Lucien got used to the pain. They did not disappear, but at least he could bear them better and was less and less distracted by it.

Sometimes the Speaker, Arela Drewani, came to the shelter to check on things. She talked to the assassins and then often retreated for hours with Cassius Proximo in his room. She seldom paid attention to the two apprentices and usually only asked them about their progress out of courtesy. Lucien, however, always walked around afterwards with his chest swollen with pride, telling her with fiery enthusiasm about what he had already learned. She always smiled softly and encouraged him to keep on practicing so that he could soon live up to Sithis' name.

As hard as it was, Lucien liked his life in the Brotherhood. He often had to suffer and sometimes he was even more miserable than when he had lived in the gutter. But he now had the certainty that these moments would pass and that better times were ahead. He also knew that if he continued his efforts, followed the tenets and studied diligently, he would have the certainty of rising in the ranks of the Brotherhood and making a name for himself. In the gutter he had only one certainty: to live a hard, joyless life and to die an early and probably painful death.

His striving was finally rewarded after over a year. When Proximo called him and Caius unexpectedly (which he did rarely and only when he wanted to hear from them themselves what their view was of their progress), Lucien had this feeling. He couldn't put his finger on it, but somehow he knew that this time the leader didn't want just a little chat about his teaching.

"Sit down," said the man with a smile. By now Lucien had got used to the disfiguring scars and could see the friendliness behind the distorted face.

The two boys sat down opposite Proximo at the small round table that stood in his room. He poured wine for them both. It was not the first time that Lucien had enjoyed such an extraordinary luxury here, but it was overwhelming every time and hard to believe. He had got used to many things here, but the fact that he was allowed to drink wine (even if only rarely and only on special occasions), he still hadn't really realized.

Accordingly, he sipped at his chalice with reverence. Cassius watched him smiling.

"You've grown quite a lot in the year you've been with us now," he said. "Your body, too, is now slowly growing up and leaving the childhood days behind. That is good, that is very good. I can also see that you have settled in very well with us. Even Caelwen has accepted you now, and I'd like to say that was quite an accomplishment."

He grinned, which also made Lucien take the last statement as a joke and smile a little, too. Caius made a shy face but didn't make a sound; Caelwen still treated him almost as disparagingly as in the beginning.

"You've learned the basics now," Cassius continued more seriously. "Of course, you're still a long way from becoming a Master Assassin, and you know it. You still have a long and arduous road ahead of you, and you have a lot to learn. You will succeed and you will fail, but with each fall you will rise again and emerge stronger.

So I think", and Lucien's heart beat faster with these words, "that now is the time to take the next step. We can't keep you both locked up down here forever thinking that you'll learn everything you need to know. No, now is the time to test and improve your skills in the real world."

Lucien held his breath. "Does that mean...?" he asked with a dry mouth. "Does that mean I get to do real, proper assignments?"

"Close your mouth, nipper," Proximo warned him.

In a hurry, the boy closed his mouth.

Caius also opened his eyes wide and leaned forward expectantly.

"Yes and no," Proximo now answered the question. "We are far from being able to send you on missions alone, but in the near future you will accompany your Brothers and also your Sister on some of their missions. And I think I already have a suitable mission for you and Caius."


End file.
